


Improvisation

by thegirlwhoknits



Series: Music to Murder By [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Will finally figures it out, Hannibal lets him go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Improvisation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scarimonious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarimonious/gifts).



> I am a hopeless sucker for these two. This is my first work in this fandom, so comments will be gobbled up happily!

The day Will finally figures it out, Hannibal lets him go.

 

They’re in Hannibal’s home study—it’s been months since they met at his office—sipping fresh coffee and comparing notes on the latest case.  The killer’s methods are about as far from the Chesapeake Ripper’s as it’s possible to get; a rash of poisonings made to look like suicides.  Even Hannibal can’t tell what finally slots the last puzzle piece into place in Will’s mind.  Perhaps it’s been there all along, lying below the dark surface of his thoughts, waiting for him to be ready to accept it.

Whatever triggers the realization, it shows, just as transparent as every one of Will’s thoughts has become to Hannibal’s greedy eyes.  He’s been expecting it for a while now, preparing himself for what needs to be done.  Any moment, his trusted colleague will set down his china cup, make some flimsy excuse to leave, and Hannibal will be forced to… _prevent_ him.

But Will is the first to deviate from the script.  He meets Hannibal’s eyes briefly, surely sees the reflection of his revelation in their pale depths.  Then he takes another sip of coffee, slow and thoughtful.  His eyes roam around the small, wood-paneled room, resetting the familiar objects in this new framework.  When his gaze completes its circuit, he blinks twice, pushes his glasses up, and returns to the case.

Hannibal has absolutely no idea how to respond to this.  Will has obviously come to some kind of decision, but what?  He can’t be choosing to ignore this knowledge.  That would be completely out of character.  He might try to convince himself that it’s not true, but a Will in denial is a considerably more flustered Will, sometimes even angry.  This air of calm resolve is not one he’s seen before.

His responses to his colleague’s next few insights are distracted, perfunctory; things Hannibal never is.  It’s as if he and Will have switched characters with one another—the empath now the calm, dispassionate observer; the psychopath overwhelmed by an unfamiliar tide of emotion.  His mind is running through a re-evaluation of its own, comparing what he thought he knew of Will Graham with this surprising creature in front of him.

Finally Will does set down his cup, drained of its contents, and gathers his notes.  Hannibal rises with him automatically, good manners taking over in the absence of any rational directions from his brain.  This is it, the moment he’s prepared for; he’ll get Will’s coat, come back with the knife waiting in the hall closet, and end their collaboration.  Not without regret, of course.

But he can’t.  He has to know what this calm acceptance really is—can’t let go of his hope of what it _might_ be.  Hannibal suddenly realizes his mind has kept its own secrets from him, and now they are popping up fast as water boiling.  Will is speaking, clasping Hannibal’s hand, thanking him, seeing himself out, and he responds automatically, a polite smile pinned to his face.

The closing door echoes through the empty house, and Hannibal sinks onto the settee in the hallway.  His brain briefly entertains the notion of panic, but that is an indignity he will never allow himself.  Instead he sits quietly, trying to imagine what Will is doing now.  _Going to Jack, of course,_ his mind whispers. _Telling him everything, leading the wolves straight to your door. They’ll lock you up and swallow the key._

He could always run.  Even if Will calls Jack from the very doorstep, he has time to escape: plans already in place, bags already packed. 

Instead he gathers up their dirty china and carries it to the kitchen.  He is drying the last cup when Will’s familiar footsteps sound behind him.  The other man’s warm body presses against his back before he has a chance to turn.  Will reaches around him with both hands, takes the coffee cup and towel from him, sets them on the counter.  Then he steps back, giving Hannibal just enough space to turn and face him.

Will’s eyes are warm, his smile the bright, open one Hannibal has always delighted in coaxing out of him.

“You didn’t run,” he comments approvingly.

“You didn’t tell.” Hannibal means to make it a statement, but the barest hint of a question slips into his tone anyway.

“No.” Will shakes his head, still smiling. He tilts his head and moves even closer into Hannibal’s space.  “I was never going to.  I knew…knew there was _something_ , for a long time.  Not what.  But it doesn’t matter, it never mattered.  It doesn’t change _you_ , for me.”

Hannibal lets his forehead rest against Will’s, his straight brown strands mingling with dark, wild curls.  “Why did you go?” he whispers brokenly.

“The same reason you didn’t…the reason you didn’t _stop me._ ” And of course Will knows what he had planned, knows that Hannibal would have prepared for the inevitable.  “I had to know what you would do.  I needed to know if you trusted me.”

 _I do,_ Hannibal thinks, and presses his mouth to Will’s as if he can push those words inside it.  Will’s answering kiss is fierce, possessive, his fingertips digging into Hannibal’s back.  When they finally pull apart his eyes are intoxicatingly dark.

“You’ll stay?” he asks roughly, threading his hands through Will’s curls and gripping them just tightly enough to elicit a gasping moan.

“Only if you promise to make me breakfast,” Will responds with a wicked grin that almost makes Hannibal come on the spot, and tugs him toward the bedroom.

 

The next morning, Will lets Hannibal feed him “protein scramble” in bed, and kisses him after every bite.


End file.
